


To the Moon and Back

by LillysoftheValley



Series: Allsorts - A Collection of Assorted GO Ficlets [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Wallace & Gromit
Genre: Aziraphale doesn't know how the moon works, Cheese, Eating, Food, Gen, Humor, Moon, Outer Space, Picnics, Post-(not)Apocalypse, References to Monty Python, Silly, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), also the Cheese Shop Python sketch, crackers, it's just A Grand Day Out, lots of cheese, they drive to the moon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillysoftheValley/pseuds/LillysoftheValley
Summary: This is essentially just Wallace and Gromit's 'A Grand Day Out' but Ineffable.There is no cheese left in the house and Aziraphale is hungry so, naturally, he persuades Crowley to turn the Bentley into a rocket and drive to the moon because everyone knows the moon is made of cheese. (Aziraphale may know a lot of things, but how the moon works is not one of them. And no, Crowley was not responsible for faking the moon landing. The Point Is he was responsible for people THINKING someone faked the moon landing. It made more sense on paper.)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Allsorts - A Collection of Assorted GO Ficlets [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650484
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	To the Moon and Back

It was a lazy kind of Sunday evening at the cottage. Aziraphale was reading, curled up in his favorite overstuffed chair by the big window that overlooked Crowley's wonderful garden, and Crowley was stretched out on the sofa watching a rerun of Golden Girls with the volume down low.

"Fancy a cuppa, dear?" Aziraphale asked, placing a long black feather in between the pages.

"Yeah. I am feeling a bit peckish, as it happens."

Aziraphale dropped a kiss on Crowley's head before heading to the kitchen. He puttered about with the kettle and the tea, then poked about in the cupboards for something to nibble. Plates, check. Crackers, check. Fridge ... empty. Azirapahle frowned. He thought he had asked Crowley to stop round the shops last weekend for some more of that lovely Caerphilly. No matter, he would just check the pantry. There was bound to be some of the Red Leicester left over from ...

Nothing.

A bubble of panic rose in his chest. He went over every shelf twice. Then he opened every cabinet in the kitchen, reaching well back into the corners. Still nothing. Even the super secret panel behind the bookshelf that Crowley didn't know about **1** was bare. There was not a scrap of cheese in the house.

The kettle whistled. Dejectedly, Aziraphale prepared the tea and lonely crackers and shuffled back into the sitting room. Crowley clicked off the telly and sat up curiously.

"What's wrong, angel?"

"I'm afraid there's no" - he sniffed - "there's ... no cheese!"

"Not even Wensleydale?"

Aziraphale shook his head sadly. He took a bite of bare cracker, but it just wasn't the same. "Whatever are we to do?"

"The shops are just down the road. I'll go tomorrow."

"That's hardly going to do us any good now, though, is it?" Aziraphle chewed thoughtfully, the dry cracker like so much sawdust in his mouth. Outside, the first stars were beginning to poke out. Aziraphale took a very large swallow of tea to clear away the cracker and turned to Crowley. "They say the moon is made of cheese."

"Who?"

"People."

"Angel, I don't think that's true."

"Have you ever been to the moon?"

"No, but - "

"Then how do you know it _isn't_ made of cheese?"

"I did help to make the stars, you know."

"But the moon isn't a star." Aziraphale said triumphantly. "It could very well be cheese and you'd never know."

Crowley sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "People have _been_ to the moon. I think someone would have mentioned if it were actually cheddar or something."

"I thought you told me once that the whole business had been a hoax? Filmed on a set or something?"

"Ngk - no angel, I was responsible for making people _believe_ it was a hoax! It really happened! There were rockets and scientists and math and everything! You think after all that time building the cosmos I wouldn't want people to be able to explore it?"

"All right, all right, don't bite my head off. Well, even so, couldn't this theory be the same kind of thing? A hoax to cover up the truth, which is that the hoax is real? Surely, if anyone wanted to keep people from finding out the moon _is_ made of cheese after all, the best way to keep the secret is to make up a rumor that it's true."

"A double bluff?" Crowley said incredulously.

"Exactly."

"Angel… "

"And the only way to find out for sure is to go ourselves." Aziraphale patted his thighs decisively. Crowley sighed again. Once Aziraphale made up his mind, it was a very long job to change it and he didn't fancy spending the next 6000 years trying.

"Okay, angel. If that's what you want, we'll go to the moon."

"Marvelous! I'll make us up a hamper and we can go tomorrow. It'll be full, so there will be plenty of space to land."

"That's not ... never mind. Sounds lovely. And how exactly are we getting there, hm? Am I just supposed to fit up the Bentley with a jet engine?" He chuckled at the outlandish notion, until he noticed Aziraphale giving him that Look. Crowley slid off the couch with a groan. "Fine. But only because it's you, angel."

Aziraphale beamed. "We can do it together! I'll go change!" He hurried off, leaving Crowley wondering if he would ever see his car in one piece again.

Still, the next several hours found them in the garage, tinkering and sawing and welding well into the night. It took a bit of doing, and more than one trip to the local scrap heap outside town, but eventually, as dawn broke over the hedgerows, Crowley made one final adjustment and declared it space-worthy. It did not look all that different on the outside, but the bike rack had been swapped out for a rather showy rocket booster. **2**

"Oh, it looks wonderful dear!" Azirapahle clapped his hands. He was too excited to be horrified that they were caked with oil and paint.

"All thanks to you. You've become a regular grease monkey." Crowley smiled and wiped at a smear of the stuff on Aziraphale's cheek. Aziraphale laughed, and it turned into a yawn so he and Crowley went back inside to have a wash and a nap before moonrise.

That night, the moon hung full and yellow over the south downs and Crowley was yelling at Aziraphale to hurry it up.

"We don't need to bring the whole sitting room with us! We'll only be gone a few hours!"

Aziraphale, who had been trying to decide which antimacassars would suit the seats best for their maiden voyage to the moon, finally conceded and slid into the passenger seat.

"Right." Crowley rubbed his hands in anticipation. "Ready?"

Aziraphale nodded. Crowley pulled out into the lane and lined up the car. The plan was to accelerate to the end of the street and then go straight to the moon. Easy. He began running through the pre-flight checklist. Fuel - check. Mirrors - check. Engine - it revved with a throatier roar than usual and Crowley grinned. Double check.

"Okay angel, let's get you some cheese." He flipped a switch and a little counter with nice big red numbers began beeping.

Aziraphale meanwhile, was going through a check of his own on the large hamper in the backseat. Thermos of tea - check.

Ten ...

Homemade bread, jam, and honey - check.

Nine ...

Crackers ...

Eight ...

"I'VE FORGOTTEN THE CRACKERS!" Aziraphale shouted and was out the door before Crowley knew what was happening.

"Angel! There's a finite amount of time here!" he called, sticking his head out the window, but Aziraphale was already inside.

He ran through the sitting room, into the kitchen, opened the cupboard so fast the door flew clean off, gathered all the boxes he could to his chest, and was back out the door and racing down the drive. Crowley waved frantically, the clock ticking inexorably down. Several boxes slipped from his hands, but Aziraphale was forced to leave them in the lane. Three ... the door popped open. Two ... the crackers tumbled into the front seat. One ... Aziraphale barely got the door shut again before the car ricocheted down the street.

"Really, angel? We plan this whole thing and you forget the crackers?"

"I'm terribly sorry, dear," Aziraphale apologized, gently unearthing Crowley from the pile. "But you can't have cheese without crackers, can you?"

It was a pleasant trip, apart from the takeoff. They watched the earth grow smaller beneath them, the ring of the M25 still a delight of demonic energy, life still bustling along as it had before, and it wasn't long before the moon drew them in.

"I think we should aim for that clear patch just there," Crowley pointed through the windscreen. "Brace yourself, angel." He downshifted, spun the wheel, and the Bentley touched down with a bounce that brought all the crackers tumbling into the front seat again. Aziraphale shoved them out of the way just in time to see a large crater in their path.

"Look out!" he cried and Crowley stomped on the brake. The Bentley squealed to a halt, wheels digging into the soft lunar surface, coming to rest just inches from the crater's edge. Crowley and Aziraphale were thrown back into their seats with a jolt, and everything was still.

"Well, we're here," Crowley said. Aziraphale chuckled weakly, and soon they were both laughing. They spilled out, crackers going every which way. The surface of the moon was quite springy, like new spring moss. The landing had cleaved a sizable rut which Crowley hoped wouldn't be too visible. He hefted the hamper out of the back and asked where they ought to try first.

Aziraphale pursed his lips, taking stock of the barren landscape. "I suppose there is as good a place as any," he suggested, pointing off to the right, and they set off. They spread a picnic blanket in the shade of an outcropping and Aziraphale poured them some tea. With great ceremony, Crowley presented him with the cheese knife, and Aziraphale cut the first slice of lunar cheese.

It was firm, but spongy, more like tofu than cheese. Azirapahle sniffed cautiously, but couldn't smell anything. Even Crowley's sensitive nose couldn't detect anything other than a hint of whey. Still, it spread evenly on the crackers, so the only thing for it was to try a bite.

Crowley watched the angel chew a moment, his eyes closed, a tiny frown wrinkling between his brows. "What's it like?"

"I'm not really sure. Not Wensleydale, that's certain. It's not very distinct." Aziraphale swallowed and took a sip of tea. "Perhaps another spot would be more palatable."

They packed up and walked on for another ten minutes or so before deciding on the bottom of a shallow crater. Crowley guided Aziraphale down the side, the cheese crumbling a bit underfoot. Aziraphale tried a bit on another cracker, pacing across the sunken patch as he chewed.

"It's different, but I still can't put my finger on it."

"Gruyere?" Crowley suggested.

"No."

"Lancashire?"

"No."

"White Stilton?"

"No."

"Double Gloucester?"

Aziraphale paused. "No."

"Gouda? Edam? Gorgonzola? Parmesan? Danish Fimboe?" Crowley was having fun now, just naming cheeses. Aziraphale had come to a halt and was glaring at him, hands on his hips.

"Crowley, I think we've established that it tastes like none of the cheeses one enjoys on Earth."

"You sure? I've got more. Venezuelan Beaver Cheese, perhaps?"

"Oh, hush! Why don't you try some, if you're such an expert?"

Crowley wrinkled his nose. "No thanks."

"Well," Aziraphale sighed deeply, "I suppose that's that. Not exactly cheese, is it? Just sort of - cheese adjacent."

"Want to try another patch? Maybe the stuff on the dark side will have more character."

Aziraphale shook his head. "No, I think this was a bit of a fruitless expedition. Still," he said more brightly, coming to wrap his arms around Crowley. He gazed up at Earth, feeling much as he had gazing out over the vast new creation from atop the walls of Eden. "It was very lovely to spend the evening with you, my dear."

Crowley hugged him back before helping him climb back out of the crater. "We don't necessarily have to go home, you know. The car's all souped up now, we can take her for a spin anywhere you like. The whole universe is at our disposal."

Aziraphale tipped his head back, his vision filling with stars. He thought about it, he thought about it for a good while, long enough for Crowley to walk back to the Bentley, put away the hamper, and come back. "You know," he said finally, squeezing the hand that had slipped into his, "I think our cottage is just where I'd like to go."

"Home, then," Crowley said warmly.

"Together."

So they climbed back into the Bentley, and with only a little extra push, got up enough speed to head back to Earth. Crowley guided them back down more gently this time, for Aziraphale had dozed off against his shoulder. They trundled back up the familiar lane, back into the familiar garage, and went inside together. While Aziraphale took a nap, Crowley popped down to the shops and stocked up on some good old English cheese, making a note to never let the fridge go empty again.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) He did    
>  **[^]**
> 
> 2) Purely aesthetic, of course, but Crowley had insisted. _How else is anyone going to tell it's a rocket now, angel?_   
>  **[^]**


End file.
